The Best Mistake
by Lysa-uk
Summary: What if Cordelia and Oz hadn't rescued Willow and Xander when they did? THis is my take on the day after in an AU
1. One

Title: The Best Mistake

Author: Lysa-uk

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Please, please, please. lysaharris@fsmail.net

Distribution: If you want it, ask first and let me know where it's going.

Pairing: Willow/Xander

Spoilers: Possibly for Homecoming and Lover's Walk.

Summary: Set AU, what if Cordelia and Oz had gone straight to the woods to get Giles and not rescued Willow and Xander?

Disclaimer: Okay, I am not the god known as Joss Whedon, but I wish I was because then I wouldn't have to be writing this stuff. All mentioned is property of Joss Whedon/UPN/Mutant Enemy etc. No copyright is intended at all. Please don't sue me, I have zero.

Notes: This is just a short vignette piece that sort of popped into my head while watching Lover's Walk. I wondered what would have happened, how far things would have gone, if Willow and Xander hadn't been interrupted. This is basically what I would have liked to have happened.

Willow holds the telephone receiver to her ear, and listens to the ringing sound from the familiar number she has just dialled. All too soon, she hears the click of someone answering, and she wants to slam the phone back down and bury her head in her pillows, forgetting everything. But she doesn't. She hears the monosyllabic greeting from her sweet, caring boyfriend and forces herself to speak. "Oz?" she asks, even though she already knows it's him answering. Who else would be answering his private line?

"Willow," he says warmly, and she can almost hear that smile on his face that he always reserved especially for her. "It's nice to hear your voice."

"Yeah, you too," she says uncomfortably, moving from the standing position she has taken next to her bed so that she can pace, something she's used to doing at times when there is something on her mind, which, these days, seems to all the time, and she sits on her bed, holding the telephone receiver in both hands, feeling her limbs shaking so much she's sure he can hear it.

"Are you okay?" he asks, breaking the silence that seems to follow. 

"Yeah, of course," she tells him, lying through her teeth. "I just…"

"It's okay, baby," he says softly. "I know you guys had a rough time last night with Spike and all. I'm just glad that he told Buffy and Angel where you were, otherwise…" he stops speaking, his words trailing off.

Willow flinches because she knows that he's thinking about what could have happened last night at the hands of Sunnydale's psycho bleach-blond vampire, and she closes her eyes, knowing he's hurting because of it. "I'm fine, Oz," she forces herself to say.

"I know you are," he tells her. "I'm just glad that Xander was there with you. He's the only other guy I could trust your life with."

"Oz," she says suddenly, the guilt eating at her stomach, making it turn in knots and she has to bend over slightly against it, trying to constrict it when it feels like it's going to burst through her skin.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Listen, I was wondering if…if I could maybe come over in a little while?" she asks, wishing things were different, wishing she didn't have to hurt him.

"Of course," he tells her. "You're welcome here any time, you know that."

And she knows he means it. "You don't have any other plans?" she asks, part of her - her fear - hoping for him to suddenly remember a band practice or something that he has to go to, because then that would mean she didn't have to tell him right now and she had more time.

"No, I'm good," he tells her. "It'll be nice to spend some time with you, after our failed double bowling date and all."

"Okay," she says shakily at his soft chuckle. "I'll see you in a little while."

"Bye," he tells her, the smile still there.

Something inside of her is relieved as she replaces the receiver on the cradle. That part of her is the logic, knowing and telling her that she has to do this as soon as possible, before it gets harder than it already is. Her original plan had been to tell him over the phone, but she knows she owes him more than that. He had been the one who saw her when no one else had. He'd made her feel wanted, loved, special and all of those other nice things she'd read about in the cheesy romance novels that no one besides Xander knew that she was hooked on reading. She hoped that Oz had felt some of those things too in their time together. He had given her confidence and strength and the ability to all but forget about the love for her best friend that had been developing since their lives first crossed paths at kindergarten. But she couldn't forget it completely, the last few weeks had proved that more than once. And after last night…things were never going to be the same again.

_I'm a slut, Willow thinks to herself.__ A horrible, guilty, cheating slut who should be shot! But what's the definition of a slut? Willow wonders to herself, deep in thought. _Somehow, I don't think Webster's Dictionary is going to be of much help here,_ she thinks. __'**Slut, a: -** Someone who goes behind her boyfriend's back and sleeps with her best guy friend when they're in a hostage situation. **Example: ****_Willow_********_Rosenberg_****_._**__' __Maybe I should ask Faith, she thinks absently._ Or maybe not, _she amends quickly._ I mean, I know she seems to have a lot of experience in the 'guy' department – just look at her clothes. Something tells me the leather is more of a lifestyle choice than a fashion statement. I don't think I need her advice on something like this._ She knows she's being judgemental, but she can't help it. She has issues, she knows this, especially when the reason why she seems to dislike her so much is because of the way she looks at Xander, and the way he looks back. At first, she didn't really notice it, so it didn't bother her. But now, since that first kiss, she's suddenly 'hyper-aware' – as Buffy once put it – of Xander Harris all over again. Seeing him with Cordelia was bad enough before, even if she hadn't allowed herself to realise it, but after feeling his lips on hers…even with Oz in her life, she could never block out the vision of him in his tux and what she had felt when he held her so close._

The thought of Cordelia, his unsuspecting, unaware and, she suspects, loving girlfriend causes the knots in her stomach to increase tenfold, and she can feel the physical pain cutting into her sides. She wonders if it's possible for it to burst at all, maybe like an appendix or something, before she dismisses it with her knowledge and reasoning of modern biology and anatomy. The guilt is counteracted as something makes her remember that night she had witnessed Cordelia and Xander's little make-out session in the midst of the panic that had been Spike and Drusilla's baby, the Judge, not to mention what they were still to discover about Angel. The pain of what she had seen that night had almost been too much to bear – the hurt, the betrayal and utter devastation. She never was too clear on why she was hurting so badly, though. On the one side, there was the fact that she was supposed to be his best friend, his confidante, especially when it came to things like this. On the other, she had the fact that she loved him so much that it made her feel physically ill to see him in the arms of another, especially Cordelia, the person who had been their sworn enemy since grade school. She flinches again at this thought, because she knows that she's inflicting this kind of pain on someone else, someone who she actually counted among her friends, even if Cordelia would never admit it, but the worst part being that she's blissfully unaware of it. The pain and the guilt are now melding together in her body, making her feel nauseous.

She moves to the stereo across the room and turns it on, pressing the play button on the CD player, hoping that it will somehow ease the feelings inside of her, make her feel better and maybe make her forget how terrible a person she is, even if it's only for the duration of one song. She opens the closet and tries to decide what to wear to go to Oz's, thinking that a placard saying 'I'm sorry. Please don't hate me', just isn't going to cut it. She decides against changing. It's not like clean clothes are suddenly going to make it easier to dump someone, or make her feel any better about what she has to do. _There's a thought: little mousy __Willow__ has to dump her cool musician boyfriend, she thinks to herself. _If the situation wasn't so sad, I'd probably find that ironic.__

Then it hits her again: _I had sex._

_With Xander._

Everything else that she's feeling seems to pale in comparison to that one fact as she feels that slow smile appearing on her face.

She catches herself in the mirror, seeing her own reflection smiling back at her, and she frowns, cursing the day when everything got so complicated. This time last year, everything was so simple. Well, not so much simple as that she knew where she stood when it came to Xander. He was her best friend, and she also happened to be in love with him. She'd known then that love wasn't going to be reciprocated, but she knew where she stood. All she wanted was to be loved. Months passed and Oz came into her life when she needed it the most. But being loved wasn't all it was cracked up to be, she realises now, not when it's by the wrong person. There was never any question that Oz had made her happy, but she'd never felt that fire that seemed to burn inside of her whenever she was near Xander when she was with Oz. That wasn't his fault. She realises now that she should have listened to what her heart was trying to tell her that night before Homecoming. That she was falling for Xander all over again, losing a part of herself whenever she was in his arms. Instead, she kept her inner turmoil to herself, wanting Oz because he was nice and safe and comfortable, but wanting Xander because…well, because he was Xander. _And let's not forget how gorgeous he looked in that tux…_ She knows she's always the logical one, the brains of the Willow/Xander partnership, but she couldn't find any logic deep enough to stop their dalliances. Yes, she knew it was wrong in her head, but her heart screamed at her, telling her not to stop. When she was in the sanctity of her room, alone at night, she admonished herself for her feelings and her actions, resolving to find a solution. She always told herself to do the right thing, to tell Xander 'no more', and be with Oz completely, but all of that went out of her head when she saw her best friend. In the safety of their group of friends, she could cope. She forced herself to cope. It was those one-to-one moments that caused all the trouble. It really was all their friend's faults for leaving them all alone together, she had reasoned, not even believing it herself.

But after all of those stolen moments alone together, it was last night when things came to a head. They had both agreed: No more kissing. Or touching. Or even looking at each other. It had to be that way. It was best for everyone. So, when they lay on that bed in the basement of the factory, she'd reminded him that they weren't supposed to – but deep down she already knew what was going to happen. She had looked into those deep brown orbs that turned her knees to jelly and she realised in a moment of clarity that she still loved him, more than she ever had before, and she gave herself to him completely and willingly, knowing, somehow, that he felt exactly the same. There were no words, no excuses for their actions, no reasons why they shouldn't give in, only love-filled kisses and an experience that made Willow want to blush and hide away, as well as being filled with delight and a strange sense of pride and happiness and not a hint of regret for what they had done.

Going behind Oz's back was definitely something that she doesn't feel proud about, but she understands why it happened. All of this time, she was reprimanding herself for being a slut, when really all she had done was make love to the one man in the world she loved more than anything. And that's what it had been – making love. It wasn't some reckless action carried out by two people who panicked and thought they were going to die, or who had just met in some club and got down to it in an alley. These weren't bad things for other people, and she always believed that as long both adults were over the age of consent and willing, good luck to them. But that wasn't her. She could probably argue to anyone that they were just comforting each other, and that they were scared and so on, but the fact is that she had made love to him not because they thought they were going to die, but because she loved him and she knew they were going to live. Lying in Xander's arms made the world fall away and she couldn't ignore that feeling.

She catches herself smiling in the mirror again as she moves to take her jacket hanging from the hook on the back of her bedroom door, slipping it on as she heads to Oz's house to break his heart.

To be continued…


	2. Two

Xander stands at his bedroom window, watching the world pass him by. The phone rings and he starts, the deafening silence from the past twenty four hours broken, and he moves over to sprawl on the bed, picking up the telephone receiver in the process. "Hello?" he says flatly, his tone as miserable and depressed as he feels.

"Hi, it's me," Cordelia's voice resonates from the other end of the phone line, as happy and bright as ever.

"Cordy," he says, trying to force a smile, knowing she can probably sense the hesitance. "How have you been?"

"Me?" she asks incredulously, being the sweet girlfriend she always was when no one else was around. "Don't worry about me, silly. It's you and Willow that we've all been worried about. I know the hospital gave you the all clear, but I hardly had a chance to speak to you last night."

"I was pretty tired," he says feebly. "A lot happened last night."

"I know," she says softly. "That's why I'm gonna come over and spoil you."

"Cor…" he starts.

"It's okay," she interrupts. "I've been to the video store to rent some movies that I know you like, and I've gotten all of your favourite snack foods that I'm going to personally feed you by hand."

"Look, Cordelia, it's good that you're coming over," he tells her. "I wanted to speak to you about something."

"Well, I'll be over in a while. I'm on my way," she chirps, before hanging up the phone.

_Great, Xander thinks to himself sarcastically. _She has to go and play Super Girlfriend on the day that I have to break up with her. This is perfect!_ He's not really angry at her, though. He's angry at himself. After all the years of verbal sparring matches with the girl, Cordelia Chase was now his girlfriend, something he would never have imagined in a million years. For all of her bravado, she really was a nice person, and that's what made what he was about to do all the worse. But he **did** have to do it. He had betrayed her in the worst possible way – not that there was ever a good type of betrayal. He knew that Cordelia cared for him more than she ever let on to anyone, just as he did. Sure, their relationship had started out on a purely physical level, but it had grown deeper over the time that they had spent together, and it had taken a while, but they realised that they were actually pretty good together. She had made him feel better about himself when the daily rigour of his parent's arguments had gotten to him, and she made it a little more pleasant for him to show up at school in a morning. She was his rock when it felt like he had lost everyone else in his life. But after last night…things were never going to be the same again._

_I'm an asshole, he thinks to himself. __A selfish, arrogant, cheating asshole! He has to take a few breaths to calm himself, try to ease the rage that he feels inside of himself for doing this. He knew before last night that the feelings he had for Willow went way beyond what he should be feeling for someone who was only supposed to be his best friend, and she'd hardly even been that since the night at the hospital… He closes his eyes, blinking away the reminder of that night. He'd been so afraid to lose her that he'd been forced to confront all of those underlying jealousies and insecurities he had felt ever since Oz had appeared on the scene. Of course, he hadn't actually related the two until recently. When she had called for Oz, he had felt like a train had hit him, but he could deal with that because she was okay. She was safe. The summer that followed gave him plenty of time to perfect that nonchalant attitude he needed around his slaying buddies, and life went on with him burying his feelings deep inside once again. But something happened that night before Homecoming. Something that had stirred inside of him that he never even knew existed, making him feel things when his lips touched hers that refused to fade away. He knew he had loved Willow the best friend, but when she was in front of him in that dress, he fell in love with Willow the woman, as clichéd as that sounded._

He glances to his side, seeing a group photograph on his nightstand that was taken just after Buffy had gotten back from L.A., and he feels the guilt coming back again, especially when he sees Oz in the shot, his arm around Willow. _The guy doesn't deserve this,_ he thinks to himself, and he means it. He knows that he was jealous when he first entered their world, and his trademark werewolf jokes usually poked fun at him in some way or another, but he had to respect the guy for the way he treated Willow. He knows Oz thinks of her as the centre of his universe, and he knows what that's like. He seemed to be good for her, and if he was good enough for Willow to like him back, he must have something good in him. But he also resents him in a purely selfish way. He thinks he's the reason why he and Willow had drifted so far apart, even though he knows this isn't fair. He doesn't begrudge Willow her happiness. He just can't handle it when he isn't a part of it.

He stands and moves towards the window again, tripping over a stray sweater on the floor, and he picks it up, balls it up and throws it at the wall in frustration, not getting anywhere near the physical release he had been hoping for. Then he does something completely out of character: he picks up the discarded sweater and places it in the dirty clothes hamper next to his door. He looks around the room, hoping for something, anything, to take his mind off what he's feeling and thinking. He moves around the room, picking up all the clothes he can find and makes an overflowing pile on his bed as he moves, finding a stray plate or two. He decides he's not that desperate to discard those just yet, even though they seem to have developed new life forms on the few leftover crumbs that he can't even hazard a guess as what they used to be. Removing those would mean a trip downstairs into the kitchen, his parent's favourite hangout next to the TV, due to the fact that they had easy access to the refrigerator. He slides them back under the bed and looks down at the rug, absently wondering where the hell it had come from since he didn't remember ever seeing it before, and looks at the pile of clothing on his bed. He had intended to sort through them, seeing as some of it was the laundry he had brought up earlier, but decides against it, just taking the pile in both arms and dumping it in the hamper. He congratulates himself when he realises he can actually walk across the room without getting his foot caught in a pair of boxers and that he hadn't thought of Cordelia, Oz or Willow in the past few moments. Then it all comes back to bite him in the ass. It's not like a clean room is suddenly going to make it easier to break up with someone. And that's what he has to do, he realises for the first time. He'd been focussing on the one fact that he had to break to her – that he had slept with Willow – and he had just automatically stopped thinking at that point. Even if Cordelia decided she could forgive him – which he never in a million years thinks she would – he couldn't be with her.

Then it hits him again: _I had sex._

_With __Willow__.___

Everything else seems to pale in comparison to that one thought as he feels that slow smile spread onto his face, regardless of the guilt he's feeling.

He moves to sit on his now-free bed and puts his head in his hands, cursing at himself in his head. He's angry. So angry at himself for so many things. He's angry for being oblivious to Willow for all of those years. He's angry for not being oblivious anymore, and causing so much hurt to people he cares about. He's angry that he still hasn't returned the tux borrowed from his cousin, Rigby, because it still has some of Willow's scent on it amongst the smell of stale smoke and the fearful sweat he had broken out in when he had heard Buffy's comment about not upsetting Cordy. He was angry that he hadn't been able to listen to the radio or watch the TV all day because everything reminded him of Willow. He was angry that, since their indiscretions, he wasn't even able to walk into the library or the science lab without constant reminders of what it was like to touch her assaulting him. But, most of all, he was angry because he was afraid. He was afraid that Willow would give him her heart and that he would break it, not on purpose and not because he wants to, but because he's Xander, and he's afraid that he's not good enough for her, that he's not enough for her.

When he had held her in his arms last night, he had felt total peace, and it felt like they were the only two people in the world. He had never expected what had happened and he knows that he should regret it, but he can't. He knows he's never going to feel anything that even comes close to how right he felt last night with anyone else. He remembers that there were no words, no 'I love you's, because they hadn't needed them. They had looked into each others eyes and felt it, known what the other was thinking instinctively. They had only had a few minutes to lie in each others arms before they had heard the distinct Desoto car engine starting up and revving away, the sound of the gravel underneath the tyres unbelievably loud, and they had guessed that Buffy was on her way if Spike was leaving so abruptly. By the time Buffy had gotten to them a few minutes later with Angel in tow, they were both fully dressed again, with Buffy none the wiser as she and Angel escorted them to the hospital to have them checked over. When he and Willow had parted company, again they hadn't said a word, just shared a chaste hug among their unsuspecting friends that spoke volumes to them both.

He knows that when Cordelia arrives, he's going to have to tell her that the one thing she always quietly suspected of him and Willow was true. And he could probably excuse his behaviour to a certain extent – not that she'd listen – but the fact was that there just weren't enough in the world to excuse his behaviour. He had done the wrong thing, he knows this, but to him it feels like the best thing he's ever done. Despite the wrongness of the situation, he knows he loves Willow whole-heartedly and, even if last night had never happened, he'd still be in the same situation now.

He hears the familiar Queen C Mobile car engine outside and he moves to his bedroom window. He looks out and sees her exiting the car with two shopping bags and he steels himself. He feels his heart racing with nervous adrenalin, and his hands become clammy as he heads out of the bedroom and down the stairs to meet her. _Suddenly wondering who came up with the phrase 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned' comes from,_ he thinks, and wonders if they had ever met Cordelia Chase.

To be continued…


	3. Three

Willow enters her bedroom solemnly, closing the door behind her and throws her keys on the nightstand as she switches on the lamp. Her heart is heavy as she takes off her jacket and throws it across the room, not caring where it lands. She sits at the end of her bed and allows her body to fall backwards, her head connecting with the soft mattress as her eyes slide closed, the last few hours replaying in her mind. The scene with Oz had not been a pretty one. She had never known she could hurt someone so completely, and her head hurts with guilt and pain, and she feels like the worst person in the world. 

And then she feels it. 

She opens her eyes and sits up straight again, somehow already knowing that he's there before she sees the shadow outside of the exterior door from her room. He comes into view and her heart stops. She sees him and everything is okay.

She gets to her feet and approaches the door, her eyes never leaving his, as he puts his hand flat against the glass outside door. She mimics his movement, their hands burning at the contact, even though the pane of glass separates them. She moves her hand to unlock the door and stands back when she opens it, their eyes still connected.

Xander walks into her room and the world stands still. She looks at him and she's pale and weary from the lack of sleep he knows she's suffered from, like he has, and he puts his hand to her face, the urge that he's had since the night before when they had parted to touch her smooth alabaster skin suddenly becoming overwhelming at her close proximity, and he feels her hold her breath at his touch. He uses his free hand to run through her silky red tresses and folds her into his arms.

Willow willingly lets him touch her, because she knows that he needs it, and she needs it too. She wraps her arms tight around him and they both know that everything they've been through has been worth it for this. This is what they had been fighting for for so long, even if they hadn't known it at the time. She buries her head in the crook of his neck, the smell of his deodorant and washing detergent on his clothes filling her senses and she feels her eyes fill with tears, because she feels so many things. Relief and joy and a sense of being complete, but no more guilt and pain and sadness. She brings her hands to his face, the day-old stubble there slightly rough to her smooth fingers and palms as she lifts her head to look at him, feeling like he might disappear if she can't see him.

He relishes the feel of her hands on his skin and he closes his eyes, bringing his head down to brush her lips with his own. He feels her lips are cold from being outside, and chapped and rough on his, but he likes it because it's Willow. He draws away from her, his hands holding onto her hips so that she can't leave him. "Hi," he whispers.

"Hi," she whispers back, her hands still on his face, her fingers trailing over his lips. "I'm glad you came," she tells him.

"I had to see you," he says. "I just couldn't stay away."

"I know," she says, her voice still barely above a whisper. "I went to Oz's," she tells him.

"I guessed that's where you'd be," he says. "How did he take it?"

She doesn't have the words for him. She just sadly shakes her head and lets out a small breath.

"It's okay," he tells her, seeing the pain in her eyes at the reminder. "I understand."

"Cordelia?" she asks, already knowing the answer.

He nods at her, that sad half-smile playing on his face as he takes her hands in his.

"Do you…" she begins, uncertain and afraid. "Do you think that we made a mistake?" she asks.

"Yeah," he says. "But I think it's the best mistake we ever made."

She smiles at him as she moves back towards the bed, pulling him ever so gently with her. "Are we being monumentally stupid?" she asks him.

"How can something that feels so right be wrong?" he counters. "I know we've hurt a lot of people to get here, but I can't help but be glad that we did."

She sits on the bed and lays herself down, bringing him with her as she refuses to let go of his hand, and she feels his arms around her. She leans over and switches off the lamp on the nightstand, and she lays her head on his chest.

As they lay together, they feel at peace. They know that things are going to be hard for them, especially with the added bonus of the Hellmouth working against them, but they know where they belong.

With each other.

The End


End file.
